


Our Year

by colormetheworld



Series: Tricks [4]
Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: And Family Feelings, F/F, Is there something below G-rated?, also, being washed by its mother, in a downy field of clover, like., the Boston Bruins, this is rated a newborn calico kitten, what is the rating of a baby wallaby?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 10:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14353722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colormetheworld/pseuds/colormetheworld
Summary: The Bruins are in the Playoffs. Jane knows just who to share game night with.





	Our Year

"Something smells delicious."

Maura smiles as Jane wraps her arms around her waist from behind.

"Well I've been slaving all day over that KFC box over there," she laughs, and Jane pulls away, her face comically excited.

"No way!" she says, turning to look. "I thought you said that it would be a cold day in hell before you let that 'chicken’ into your home.” 

Maura rolls her eyes. "I did not say it quite like that," she argues lightly. "Nor were my air quotes quite as aggressively."

Jane grins at her, moving closer again. "Where's Mae?" she asks, putting her arms around Maura's waist again.

"She's upstairs. She went right up there after school. I think she's working on a project for this evening." 

Maura has a bit of a hard time finishing her sentence. Jane is kissing along the exposed part of her neck and making it hard to breathe.

"Jane!"

“What?” Jane grins against her skin. “I was under the impression that one of the perks of watching the game over here is that I get to kiss my girlfriend when we score.” 

Maura laughs, but puts her arms around Jane’s neck, reveling in the feeling. 

“I told you that you were welcome to bring any and all of your family members over tonight,” Maura reminds her. “I know that this is a tradition you all have had for a long time.” 

“Oh no,” Jane says, pulling away and leaning against the breakfast bar. “I will subject you to Rizzoli Sunday. Possibly even a Rizzoli Thanksgiving. But Playoffs and Christmas are second, maybe third-year type deals.” 

Maura tries not to smile as widely as she wants to. 

“Is that so?” she asks casually. 

Jane, as usual, can see right through her. “Yes,” she says. “I gotta make sure you’re really mine before I subject you to that kind of madness.” 

Maura shakes her head. “Too charming,” she says with a chuckle. 

“Smarmy?”

“Never.” 

Jane grins, leaning to kiss Maura’s cheek, and Maura is going to tell her that she and Mae have never watched even one period of a hockey game when there is the telltale thumping on the stairs in the hall. 

“Jane?!” Mae calls. 

“Mae!?” 

Maura loves how her daughter lights up whenever Jane is around. She loves how Jane seems the glow just as brightly. 

Mae comes around the corner and into the kitchen, already mid-sentence, a lumpy package behind her back. 

“And I was reading the book mommy got me on Hockey, so I know most of the rules now, but when we watched some little videos on youtube, sometimes it goes too fast for me to really realize what the rule is. Do you think they’ll be fighting? I saw that one time they put a player in a timeout because of that, except it’s called a penalty-” 

Mae breaks off mid-sentence as she takes in Jane’s appearance. 

Her face falls. 

“Oh, no,” she says quietly. 

Jane, who has bent to gather Mae into her customary hug, straightens up, looking crestfallen. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Mae shakes her head, looking down at the ground. “Nothing,” she lies. “I didn’t think ahead.” 

Jane looks at Maura for help, but Maura is just as lost. 

She steps forward, holding her hand out to her daughter. “What didn’t you think ahead on, darling?” 

Mae shuffles her feet, and Maura leans down so that she can speak into her ear. 

“What’s going on?” Maura whispers. “You were so excited to see Jane.” 

Mae sniffs softly. “I made Jane a present,” she says, turning into her mother. “Member, when we went to the craft store? And I used my own money?” 

Maura glances up at Jane, who is watching the interaction worriedly. 

“I remember,” Maura says. 

“Well. I thought that Jane would like to have a shirt with her favorite team's picture on it.” 

Maura nods, still not following. “I bet she would love that,” she says gently. “Is that what you made?” 

Mae nods, and a tear falls from her eye to the tile floor. “She’s already got one,” she says thickly. “I should have thought so. I have lots of Harry Potter things.” 

Mother and daughter look up at Jane. 

The brunette, who had arrived dressed in a Boston Bruin’s jersey, and a pair of faded jeans, is now standing before them in a tank top. 

The jersey is nowhere to be seen. 

Mae’s eyes go wide. 

“What?” Jane asks innocently. 

“Where did your uniform t-shirt go?” Mae asks, looking around the kitchen. 

Jane furrows her brow, looking confused. “What are you talking about?” she asks. Maura sees the corner of her mouth twitch as Mae stares at her. 

“Jaane,” Mae says. “I know you were wearing it when you got here.”

Jane shrugs. She holds out both hands. “I’d rather wear yours,” she says simply. 

Mae looks at her appraisingly. “But yours is bought from a store,” she says after a moment. “I made this one.” 

She draws the lumpy package out from behind her back. It is wrapped in brown paper that Maura recognizes as several lunch bags, and Mae has written “Go BOSTON BRUINS” across the front. 

Jane looks at the package like it could contain gold. “I wanna wear the one you made me,” she says, more firmly. “Can I open it?” 

Mae smiles a little bashfully. “Kay,” she says. 

Jane takes the package and sets it on the breakfast bar, gesturing that Mae should climb up onto the stool next to her. 

Maura watches as she unwraps the present, careful of the paper. Inside is a plain cotton t-shirt, bright yellow. When Jane shakes it out, Maura can’t help her little chuckle. 

There is a reasonably good replica of the Bruins logo across the front of the t-shirt. The circle is a little wobbly, and it definitely leans more to the left of center, but Jane is looking at it like it’s the best thing she’s ever seen. 

 

“You made this for me?” she asks. It sounds like she might be on the edge of tears. 

Mae nods at the counter, smiling hard. “Turn it over,” she mumbles. 

The back of the shirt has a large number ‘9’ and up at the top, in small letters, is the name ‘Rizoli.” 

Jane blinks at it a couple of times, and then she pulls it over her head. 

“How do I look?” she asks, holding her hands out for Mae to inspect her handy work. “I think this is the best looking shirt I’ve ever had.”

Mae grins at her. “Really?” 

Jane steps up to the stool and lifts Mae off of it, into her arms. 

“This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me,” she says sincerely. “I can’t believe you made this for me. Thank you so much.” 

“I learned most of the hockey rules,” Mae says. Her excitement is returning, Maura can see it in her eyes. “So you won’t have to explain it to me or anything.” 

Jane sets her down but doesn’t let go of her hand. “I wouldn’t mind explaining it to you,” she says. “That’s half the fun of the game.” 

Mae gives her a funny look and doesn’t answer. 

…..

…..

So they warm up the chicken, biscuits, and sides, and they break the rule about eating on the couch, and they watch the Bruins play the Toronto Maple Leafs in game two of the NHL playoffs. 

Maura gets in trouble for calling them the “leaves,” and then gets in trouble again when she says that a team name is no reason to break with the rules of grammar. 

Jane makes an incredible save when Mae drops a spoonful of mashed potatoes, and she catches it one-handed before it can touch the couch cushion. She teases Maura about her new found love of KFC biscuits but gives hers up when she sees Maura eyeing it. She pauses and replays and pauses the game so that she can explain plays and calls to Mae, and when the Bruins score, she picks the little girl up and they do a victory lap around the living room. 

Maura grabs a sharpie, and shows Mae the spot on Jane’s shoulders where she’s left out an extra ‘z.’ 

Jane pretends to be too engrossed in a chicken leg to notice when Mae squeezes it in. 

 

She’s walking back into the living room at the end of the game when she hears Mae and Jane talking. The Bruins have won, and the TV is now showing replays of their best scenes. 

“Thanks for wearing my shirt,” Mae is saying. She has her head on Jane’s shoulder, and she sounds exhausted. It is well past her bedtime, and the adrenaline and sugar are wearing off. 

“Can I wear it for the game tomorrow too? Even though you won’t be there?” Jane asks. 

“You don’t have to,” Mae says. 

Jane takes a moment to answer. “But I want to,” she says quietly. “So can I?” 

“Yeah,” Mae says happily. Maura sees her snuggle closer. “I made my daddy a hat one time, for a sports game.” 

“Oh yeah?” Jane sounds interested, but not eager. 

“He wouldn’t wear it in front of his friends. He told mommy it was embarrassing.” 

The memory comes to Maura quickly, a flash of something cold and sharp. Mae was barely five, and she had slaved over that paper hat, wanting her father to have a helmet like his favorite TV baseball players. 

He’d crumpled it that night, in an accident that most likely was very deliberate. Maura hadn’t thought much of its disappearance from the recycling bin the next afternoon, but now she knows who secreted away. 

“I don’t know your daddy, Mae,” Jane says after a moment. “But that wasn’t a nice thing to do. And he should have been proud to have a daughter who would make him something. I’ve never had anyone make me something before.” 

“Really?” Mae sounds both doubtful and secretly proud. 

“Really,” Jane says. “And I’m proud to wear it.” 

Maura watches her girlfriend and her daughter sitting together on the couch, trying to put a name on the emotion the image stirs up inside of her. 

She doesn’t feel like crying or laughing, but like she could do both at the same time, and not have it be enough. 

“Jane?” Mae again, a little closer to sleep than before. 

“Yeah, sweets?” 

“Do you really think it will be our year?” 

Jane snakes an arm around Mae, pulling her closer still. “Yeah,” she says, voice raspy with emotion. 

“It’s definitely going to be our year.” 

……

……

They put Mae to sleep together for the first time in their relationship. Jane carries her up to her bedroom, and, at Mae’s request, bends down to help tuck her in. 

They have barely made it to the bottom of the stairs when Maura starts to kiss her. It is one of the rare nights when neither of them has to work in the morning, and Maura wants at least a couple hours where the detective is all hers. 

“Stay,” she says between kisses, feeling Jane tense against her as Maura’s hands slide up under her tank top. 

“Stay,” she repeats. “At least for a little while.” 

Jane kisses her back just as hungrily, and she grumbles a bit into the kiss, tightening her hold around Maura’s waist. 

“You want me to stay?” She asks, and she could be teasing, except that when Maura pulls back, she sees just the tiniest bit of hesitation on Jane’s face. 

“I want you to stay,” she says firmly. “I want to make you breakfast.” 

The living room is shadowed, with just the TV’s light casting flickering shadows across the floor. 

Jane kisses her hard. She presses Maura against the wall at the bottom of the stairs and kisses her until she is panting. 

Jane nods. “I’ll stay,” she murmurs against the doctor’s lips. “I love you.” 

Maura has to catch her breath to answer. 

“I love you too.” 


End file.
